Unlike her home city of Peron, where every building had white walls and blue-tiled roofs, Gea Market boasted buildings painted in every color under the sun, and between the poppy-red and sky-blue houses were clusters of tents made from rich purple, green, and gold fabrics. It was all so bright and beautiful that it made Tamra’s eyes ache.
Shalla would have loved this.
She used to come with Tamra, before the augurs swooped in and changed their lives. Tamra would sneak her out of her reading and math lessons, and they’d travel together on the ferry. Shalla would point out everything she thought was interesting: the smooth curve of a hippo beneath the water, a stick floating by that looked like a crocodile, a man who wore bracelets from his wrists to his armpits, a woman with a leashed monkey on her shoulder that might have once been the woman’s cousin. At the market, Shalla would be running in a dozen directions at once, so much to look at and see that she’d collapse exhausted in Tamra’s arms before the sun was at its zenith, and they’d squeeze themselves into an unused bit of shade and rest until Shalla was ready to run and point and shout again. Often, they wouldn’t even buy anything—it was just the joy and the spectacle that made the trip worthwhile.
Now, as she was jostled by other passengers eager to taste the wonders of the marketplace, she disembarked the ferry with a very different sense of purpose. Most of her fellow shoppers would return home with far less than they’d come with, but they’d be sticky with honey and bone-weary with dancing and draped in silks they didn’t need and didn’t mean to buy, and they’d be happy.
She wasn’t looking for happiness, though.
She needed a miracle.
Specifically a two-hundred-gold-piece miracle.
After giving her name to the dockmaster, Tamra strode through the market, weaving between flocks of laughing customers, vendors hawking fragrant perfume vials, and dancers who’d tied bells to their wrists and ankles. Everywhere vendors sold tokens in the shape of birds and animals to honor one’s ancestors, as well as lucky charms said to brighten one’s aura (which there was no evidence actually worked). She evaded the usual pickpockets, keeping a tight grip on her purse with Lady Evara’s tokens. A thief wouldn’t get much use out of them without Lady Evara’s approval, but the hassle of having them replaced would take time Tamra didn’t have (and earn further ire from her patron). The auction closed at sundown, and she intended to spend every minute seeking out the best bargain.
The market had other ideas, though, and even the focused found themselves distracted. As she neared a purple tent selling jewelry, she saw a customer shove the shop owner. The owner grabbed a hammer used for pounding silver flat and waved it at the customer, who was screaming in his face about higher prices. The owner screamed back that the increase wasn’t his fault—instead he blamed everyone else under the sun: the River-blasted trade agreements were on hold because the River-blasted emperor-to-be, Prince Dar, couldn’t sign, and the corrupt Ranirans were milking the mess for every coin they could, and on and on . . . A crowd began to gather, making it impossible for Tamra to pass. She looked for another way around, trying to worm her way backward.
I don’t have time for this!
As the crowd began to join the shouting, the market guards converged, bringing with them an augur. The robe-clad augur, with his pendant displayed, weaved through the crowd, murmuring to the men and women, calming them. You didn’t misbehave when there was an augur nearby to bear witness—which made them excellent at diffusing escalating situations. The holy presence was enough to remind people to do better, to be the best version of themselves, for the sake of their future lives.
“Be as peaceful as the heron,” the augur said. “Let your anger wash beneath you. Anger is an unworthy emotion, born of powerlessness. Choose instead to embrace your own inner strength and find serenity . . .”
Thanks to the augur and his string of crowd-soothing platitudes, Tamra was able to squeeze by.
Someday that could be Shalla, she thought. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that—no, that wasn’t true. Shalla would be an amazing augur. Even without a robe and pendant, she already made Tamra want to be a better person.
Halfway across the market, Tamra smelled the auction—the stench